“Hey.”
I look up from the bed to see Krypt walking into the room. His gaze slides over me, as if checking I’m in one piece. Then he takes a seat beside me, his hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck. “Santana is goin’ in.”
I gasp, trembling all over.
“What if something happens to her, Krypt?”
“Santana is a smart girl, and she isn’t someone they know. It won’t be hard for her to get picked up as a whore. We’ll make a distraction and she’ll get Claire out.”
“What if she gets there, and Claire isn’t there?”
He squeezes my neck. “Baby, Claire will be there. Howard wouldn’t leave her anywhere else. He’s counting on us showing up.”
“Then it’s a risk.”
“No, not if we don’t get off our bikes and stay far enough away. It’s a distraction; it isn’t a war.”
“If something happens to Santana because of me . . .”
“Hey,” he says, giving me a hard expression. “This isn’t on you. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, but if anyone is to blame, it’s those corrupt guards.”
I nod, tears welling in my eyes.
“Hey,” he says, his voice low and husky. “Don’t you crumble on me now, eh?”
I nod, blinking back my tears.
“It’ll all be okay.”
“I hope so,” I whisper.
And I do.
Because I don’t think I can take anymore.
~*~*~*~
SANTANA
I look like a two-dollar hooker.
My boots are up to my knees, my shirt is so tight my boobs are poking out the top, and don’t even get me started on this skirt. Whores would cringe at this shirt; even they would probably throw holy water over me. I try to jerk my top down, but it’s no use. If I pull it down, my boobs will pop out for the world to see.
Peek-a-boo.
“You have no fuckin’ idea how much I want to lock you away, especially when you look like that.”
Maddox’s voice fills the room behind me, and I sigh. I don’t need anymore of his lectures. Maybe this will prove to him that I am old enough to take care of myself, and that he doesn’t need to keep hovering. When I was a terrified teenager it was one thing, but now I’m a grown woman, and he has some serious control issues.
“There is no choice, so there’s no point in going over it,” I say, not looking at him.
“You’ll likely get fuckin’ raped, or . . .”
“Maddox,” I snap. “One of the guys will be with me. I won’t get raped.”
“When you’re in that clubhouse there will be no protection, and—”
“I’ll be fine.”
“—you’ll likely—”
“Fine, Maddox.”
“—be thrown over—”
God, the man won’t stop. I spin around, glaring at him. “Shut up!”
He glares back at me, but he stops talking.
“I’m doing this. Even you know it’s for the best. Now, can you please leave? I have to finish getting ready.”
He tilts his head to the side, giving me a look he’s given me for years now. It makes his blue eyes even more piercing, and his face seem far more intense. His lips twitch with unspoken words as his eyes narrow. “Just come back to me, do you hear?”
I stare at him, surprised. He’s always got something nasty to say, some smartass remark that makes me think he doesn’t care. I swallow and nod, turning before he can see my eyes misting.
“I will.”
I hear him disappear, and something in my chest tugs violently.
What if I never see him again?
~*~*~*~
“Three steps behind,” I hiss to Ray, who is following me.
He snorts. “We ain’t even close, Santana.”
“I don’t care. If someone is watching you, it could blow everything.”
“Hearin’ ya, babe.”
I roll my eyes and walk down the street, my heels clinking. As we approach the bar the Tinman’s Soldiers are said to spend most of their time at, my anxiety levels rise. I can do this; I just have to be believable. They’ll know right away if the guys are going to recognize me; that’s why Ray will be outside, with backup ready if need be.
“You’re on your own now, Tana,” Ray says after another few blocks.
I turn to him. “I’ll call you if I need.”
He nods. “Stay safe.”
I force a smile, and turn, making my way towards the club. I round a corner and see a group of bikers right away. I guess they were right. Jackpot. I straighten my shoulders, poke my breasts out, and strut past them to the front entrance.
Wolf whistles sound out, and my anxiety dies down just slightly as I realize they haven’t figured out who I am. There’s hope—small, but it’s there. I reach the line at the front door, and slip in. A group of girls are snickering behind me, muttering words like “whore” and “skank”.